Bedroom Diaries Part Two: Role Playing
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: A peek into the McGiva bedroom and fetishes. Part of the Bedroom Diaries series.


The room was dark and scented with cinnamon and vanilla. The flames flickering on the wicks of the scented candles were the only sources of light. The illumination shone against her lithe body, giving her skin a pinkish glow. Her hair was down; the curls fell upon her shoulders. One rebellious curl hung in front of her right eye, adding to her sex kitten persona.

Tim lay on the bed, naked, save for his briefs. His eyes roamed over her figure, drinking in every crevice of her body. She wore a tight, black strapless dress, the hem of which ended in the middle of her thighs. The four inch stiletto heels not only gave her height; they also made her legs look even leaner and more sensual.

"What should I be tonight, my little Elf Lord?" she asked. Her ruby red lips were twisted into a sexy smirk.

Role playing was such a wonderful game for young, sexually-fueled lovers. It would have been no surprise to anyone who knew him to find out that one of Tim's kinks was role playing. He was, after all, an avid MMORPG fan. Ziva, though, took to the games with fervor and intensity. She was surprisingly talented at encapsulating any character Tim fancied. She could go from strong dominatrix to shy little virgin with just a toss of her head. It was a talent he envied.

"Tonight," he said as he exhaled slowly, "I think you should be one of those Bond girls. Be one of those sexy yet deadly women."

Her head tilted to the side, obviously amused by the request. "Is that not what you Americans call type-casting?"

"Maybe just a bit," he conceded. "I think it's a role you'd play very well…probably one you've played before."

She didn't disagree. "So I am…what is her name? Pussy Galore? Is that who you would like me to be? And should I call you James Bond?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm still Timothy McGee…still the little computer geek."

"I like computer geeks."

He smiled. "I know, Miss Galore."

She grabbed her hair, pulling the tendrils up above her head. "Shall I put it up?"

"Down."

"Jewelry?"

"No…no, just the dress and heels and you."

"You are quite easy to please, my geek." She straddled his body, still fully dressed. "If I am to be a Bond girl, does that mean I should try to kill you?"

His heart was beating faster than was healthy. "I think you will if you keep me waiting."

"Oh, but…what is that saying? Good things come to those who wait?" She leaned down, pressing her lips to the skin just below his belly button. He groaned. "I can see that you are ready for me," she commented, nodding her head to the bulging erection which showed beneath his tight underwear. He couldn't have hid it if he tried. "But you must wait."

"Wait?" he repeated in a strained tone.

"Of course!" she said in a haughty tone. "What kind of lethal seductress would I be if I didn't put you through a bit of torture?"

"T-torture?" He gulped. He knew that the torture of which she spoke wasn't anything that one would see in a Quentin Tarantino film, but the word was unsettling nonetheless. "And what kind of torture would that be?"

She wasn't listening; she was too busy strolling to the stereo which sat atop her desk. With a quick click of a button, a quick and fiery Latin number seeped through the speakers. She turned to face him and half-walked, half-danced back to the bed. Her legs moved smoothly in time with the music, her hips swaying in such a tantalizing manner that Tim was forced to avert his eyes. They caught her eyes which were focused intently on him. Her lips were slightly parted, her tongue beginning to stick out between her teeth.

"I thought I would do a little dance for you, my geek, while I undressed myself." Her voice was a harsh whisper and was almost overpowered by the music. "Where shall I start?"

He didn't answer. His breathing increased and he felt himself grab tightly at the pillow beneath his head. She could start wherever she wanted as far as he was concerned. Every option would eventually lead to the same end.

"I suppose the dress should go first," she said. Her hand reached back and slowly pulled the zipper down. Tim was almost certain he could hear the click as the handle passed over each tooth of the zipper. "I find that if you unzip it and let it fall where it may…" She paused as the dressed dropped to the ground, pooling at her feet, and revealed a lingerie-clad body beneath. "It is much easier. Then, you can just step right out and kick it to the side." As she explained the actions she did them, kicking the dress over to the side.

Tim looked her over. The bra, a black, lacy number, was gorgeous, though superfluous considering Ziva had little in the way of breasts. Not that Tim cared; she was beautiful no matter how big her cup size was. Despite her small chest, the bra gave the illusion of luscious cleavage; so luscious, in fact, that he found it difficult to look anywhere else. Her underwear was also black, but they looked more satiny than lacy. The waistband was threaded with a red ribbon which culminated in a bow directly below her navel. Tim closed his eyes, imagining the feel of those satin panties against his hands. He could just imagine himself gently twirling the fabric between his fingers, letting Ziva moan and groan as she got wetter from his tender touch.

Silk always felt nice against his lips, too.

"I would usually take off the heels now," she said, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up to her face; there was an impish glint gleaming in her eyes. "But tonight, I think I will leave them on. Now that begs the question: bra or panties?"

"Um…"

"I agree, Timothy," she continued as she reached around to the hooks of her bra. "The bra should go next." She unhooked it in a matter of seconds—another talent that Tim envied—and threw it to him. He made no effort to catch it, so it landed atop his chest with an unceremonious plop. He tentatively reached down and picked it up. He could smell her perfume as it wafted from the lace fabric. It was a honeysuckle scent.

"And now, we move on to the underwear." Her hands went to the waistband of the only article of clothing that separated her moist nether regions from Tim's keen eyes. They stopped there, her thumb hooked beneath the satin-covered elastic. "Shall I continue?"

"Y-yes…" he said breathlessly. "God, yes…"

Her lips twisted up into a smile. It pleased her to know that after all this time—after countless stolen kisses and numerous sexual encounters—she could still make him revert back to his stuttering Probie tendencies. It was a power she possessed, though one she had no intention of exploiting.

At the pace of a snail, Ziva began the descent of her panties. She savored the feeling of them as they passed over her buttocks…over her thighs…over her knees…over her calves. They came to her ankles and she lifted her stiletto-clad foot to step out. The heel of her shoe caught against the fabric, making her stumble. Her sexy veneer cracked momentarily as she caught herself, replaced by an embarrassed grin.

Tim returned the grin. He loved seeing her little mistakes and tiny stumbles. It reminded him that she was human, that she had her faults and hitches. "Very nice, Miss Galore…"

She disentangled the underwear from her heel and tossed the lingerie to the side. And there she was, all of her, standing bare in front of him. She took a few steps forward, her shoes clacking against the floor of her bedroom. "And now, my little geek…I do believe you have been tortured enough…"

He felt his stomach churn with anticipation; his groin was quivering. He gulped. "I agree."

She straddled his body once again. Her hands held his wrists to the bed and she leaned her face into his. Her hair fell around their heads, offering them a private cocoon. "Perhaps I should put you out of your misery then."

He was hardly miserable, truth be told, but he knew what she meant. He silently nodded his head.

Ziva lifted up her torso and walked her hands down from his wrists to his waist. There, her fingers stroked the fabric of his underwear. She kissed the bulge which protruded beneath the white fabric. She kissed it and kissed it again. His groans of pleasure spurned her on. She knew that, in order to get the pleasure they both wanted, the briefs would eventually have to be removed. So she pulled them down, gazing lovingly at the erection which was freed in the process. "I see you are ready."

"Been ready for quite some time now."

She tossed the underwear away and positioned herself above his penis. She was low enough that her pubic hair tickled against it. "As have I, my little geek…as have I."

"So are you going to put me out of my misery?"

"Of course," she whispered as her mouth turned upward into a knowing grin. "I couldn't bear to see you in such a state of discomfort."

Time seemed to slow down as she lowered herself onto him. Her moist vagina shrouded his waiting penis and she pushed herself down as far as she could go. It was a tight fit, but that made it all the better.

"I was thinking," she said as she bit back a groan, "that, should you live through this, I should put you through my own special brand of torture."

"Oh?" Tim asked, nearly out of breath. "And what would that be?"

She was beginning to grow short of breath herself. "Well…if I tell you…my….my little geek…it will not be as much…fun!"

"Why…why would you need…to torture me?"

"For answers…" She groaned again. Her hands fell upon his sweaty shoulders.

"What…what answers would those be, Miss Galore?"

"That is for me to know…" She leaned down and kissed him hard on the lips. "…and for you to find out." Her back arched as she let out another groan.

Tim took advantage of the moment to roll her over on her back, ending with him on top. "And it looks like I've gotten the upper hand, my precious little assassin."

Ziva bit back a laugh. She could have easily overtaken him and reclaimed the top spot, but she was content to let him stay where he was. Being on the bottom was okay with her. "I guess that means I'm caught."

"And now, the tables have been turned," he said. He was running his lips along her collar bone and chest. "Now you'll be the one giving _me_ information. And I know a few torture techniques myself, Miss Galore."

She felt herself come and let out a scream of pleasure. Her hands reached up and twisted themselves into his hair, pulling and tugging in an effort to quell the overwhelming jolt of energy which ran through her body. She was trembling as she clung to him for dear life. His hips jerked, shoving his manhood deep within her. Soon, his body too was trembling, a strangled groan emanating from his throat. Their arms were entwined about each other, their sweaty, sticky bodies pressed together in a moment of sweet, dear ecstasy. The smell of sex hung in the air above them, mingling with the delicious aromas of the candles.

"I'm sure you do," Ziva whispered as she mentally begged her heart rate to slow down.

"Do…" He paused for a breath. "Do what?"

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck. Her lips were curled into a sly smile. "I'm sure you do know a few torture techniques of your own…Mr. Bond." Ziva rolled atop him. He was still reeling from his own orgasm. "And now, my little computer geek, it is your turn to play out _my_ fantasy…"

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for reading!


End file.
